


disQuiet

by Foxxoul



Series: disQuiet [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knives, M/M, Memory Loss, Not Beta Read, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxxoul/pseuds/Foxxoul
Summary: Riko took Neil's abuse in the Nest farther than in canon. Neil copes with it (kind of)
Relationships: Kinda - Relationship, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Riko Moriyama
Series: disQuiet [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700323
Comments: 8
Kudos: 210





	disQuiet

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting instead of working on a chaptered fic I want to have out in a couple days so this isn't that good. Let me know if I missed any tags

Neil let himself be dragged into the bedroom. It wasn’t time to sleep yet. They had just finished practice, but he hadn’t been allowed to shower or eat yet. He didn’t know what time it was but it wasn’t part of the schedule. He wouldn’t argue, though, if it meant he could go to sleep earlier. Though maybe it meant the torture was starting earlier. He thought he did good during practice, especially considering the fact that he could hardly keep his feet under him. 

“Lock the door.” Neil heard Riko’s voice through the static that filled his ears. The man holding him, Jean, his partner in the nest, nodded and bolted the door behind them. Neil briefly wondered why he was being told to, he thought they always locked the door. It’s not like it would matter. The rest of the Raven’s knew better than to get involved. They wouldn’t even look at Neil when he was in the shower, bleeding out into the drain, almost dead on the black tile. Jean hoisted Neil up onto Kevin’s bed and dropped him onto his back. He was vaguely aware of his shirt being pulled off over his head, and then his wrists being cuffed to the bed frame. It was normal enough. He looked through hazy eyes as Riko pulled out one of his knives and pressed the tip to Neil’s bare stomach. He pushed until the droplet of blood grew too big to stay whole, and slid down to become a crimson pool in his belly-button. 

“This doesn’t seem to be working,” Riko started as he carved a line from the edge of Neils’ ribs to the middle of his side. “ _This._ ” He repeated, with a flick of his knife. “Even with the threat of Andrew being harmed you still won’t play your best…” Riko faked a pout.

“I haven’t played this position since—”

“Did I say you could speak?” Riko snarled as he shoved his knife into his mouth. He pressed down on his tongue, hard enough to draw a thin line of blood, but no harder. He withdrew suddenly and hopped off the bed onto his bare feet. “Jean.” He called, and Neil heard the sound of a belt come undone. He was too tired to understand why panic flooded through his veins. He couldn’t hear anything else through the blood rushing in his ears but he knew they were speaking. He felt hands on his waist, and then the cold air of the room brushed over his lower body. Bile rose in his throat. He kept his mouth shut. “Hold his legs open.” Through the static of his ears he heard the bed creak as Riko placed himself between Neil’s thighs. Neil looked up at him with wide eyes. 

_No_ , he wanted to plead, but he found his voice wouldn’t work. He couldn’t move a muscle of his body. Is this what it meant to freeze? Is this what it would take to survive? 

Neil’s voice came tearing back through his throat as a scream as Riko rocked his body against Neil’s. The hands holding his hips still and ankles apart burned through his skin and flesh and he was sure they would scorch his bones. Hot lips pressed against his mouth and trashed his arms in his restraints. Riko’s tongue plunged into his mouth in sync with a thrust of his hips and Neil screamed into his mouth. He felt Riko laugh into him then pull away.

“No one is going to save you, Nathaniel.” Right, that was his name. He clung onto it. It was easier to bear if it wasn’t him. Another harsh thrust brought tears to his eyes. “Yeah, keep crying. It’ll make this faster for you.” Nathaniel wasn’t even aware of the wetness on his cheeks until the other man pointed it out. He looked up with watery eyes, then spit on his face. Riko’s movements froze, and he heard Jean hiss something in French. Riko brought his hand up and brushed the spit off with a frown. “Hand me my knife.” Riko ordered and held his hand out. A moment later, cool steel was placed into his open palm. He twirled the knife around so the point face Neil, and pressed the tip to his chin. “You have such a pretty face. Be a shame if I were to fuck it up as much as the rest of you.” He nicked Neil’s cheek, then lowered the knife. He thought for a moment that he was safe, then he felt pain spread down his thigh. 

“Fuck you.” Neil snarled. Riko raised his other hand and shoved his fingers into Neil’s mouth. He grabbed Neil’s tongue and twisted it, drawing out more tears. 

“Speak again and I’ll cut this out.” He removed his hand and wiped the spit off on Neils scarred chest. “Scream as much as you. You’re alone in here.” 

\----------

Neil rested his hot forehead against the cool, wet tile of the shower. He stared at his toes, watching as red and white ran down his body before pooling on the tile and rushing into the black drain. The cold water running down his cheeks was enough to blur the image, or maybe it was the haze of pain that still clung to him and clouded his mind. He blinked the water away and stood up. The flushed red heat of his skin made the freezing water that much colder, and for a moment he wanted to turn it all the way and boil his skin off, get rid of all the evidence of the things that had been done to him. But he knew at this point that cold water was nicer to his aching muscles and filleted skin. He waited until the water was clear before finally gathering soap in his palms and washing himself, starting with his hair. The sweat from the day's practice still clung to his skin, mixed with blood and spit and semen. Not anymore, the water had all washed it away, but he didn’t trust it enough. Though, what was even the point in washing it off when it would be the same the next day. He closed his eyes as his nails scraped at his sore scalp. At least Andrew was safe.

\----------

Neil knew time had passed when Riko was able to tangle his fingers in his hair. It was getting too long, but there was never time to cut it. They said they would cut it before they sent him back. It would be soon. He didn’t know how soon, but it had to be. He had been there too long.

He was pushed onto his knees and face this time. That meant either his back would be torn to shreds, or it would be just Riko having his way. Neil didn’t think he cared. He just wanted it to be over. His pants were pulled down and tossed to the floor, and Riko pushed inside him. He wrapped his arms around the pillow—they had long abandoned the handcuffs, Neil knew better than to fight back at this point—and buried his face in it as he waited for it to be over. 

A couple minutes in, when the blood had already reached his knees, he felt his dick twitch. It wasn’t the first time his body had responded to this punishment, but it didn't make it any easier. He sank his teeth into the pillow as Riko’s thrusts grew rougher. Riko cackled behind him like a raven and leaned forward. He pressed his grin to Neil’s ear. 

“Are you gonna fuckin cum?” Neil growled and dug his nails into his arms. The heat in his gut grew with every shove into him and the bile in his throat grew thicker. A particularly harsh thrust had the heat pouring out of him, and Riko guffawed. Neil leaned over the side of the bed and emptied his stomach. He felt Jean’s eyes on him but ignored it in favor of staring at his vomit while RIko finished inside him. He felt fingers twist into his hair and his head was yanked up. Riko smirked at him. “You really are a fucking faggot.” He snorted, then spat in Neil’s face. Neil didn’t bother to wipe it off when he was released. He waited until they left to gather himself enough to drag his body to the abandoned showers.

\----------

Neil collapsed into a seat as soon as he was inside the airport. He couldn’t walk anymore. It was too much. He just needed to rest for a moment. Rest and remember everything that had happened to him. It was two, three weeks of black fog, a blade of silver slicing through the obscurity often enough that Neil knew where the cuts that threatened to open every time he took too deep of a breath had come from. 

Neil didn’t know he had fallen asleep until he opened his eyes. The fluorescent lights and white tile sent a wave of panic though him—he had missed his flight. He had missed his flight and he would have to call and tell Jean and Riko would—No. A second look around told him he was not in their airport. When had he boarded a plane? When did he get off? When did he leave the Nest?

He shifted his weight to his feet as he stood up, stumbling slightly at the bout of dizziness that came over. He stood still for a moment to make sure he was okay, then made his way to the baggage claim. He dug his phone out of his pocket—he needed to call someone to pick him up. Andrew wasn’t out yet, he didn’t think. He didn’t know what day it was. Who could he call. No one was in town… Wymack. He opened his phone. The screen remained black. He sat down against the wall near an outlet and plugged his phone in. He waited until it was at 5 percent to unplug it and dig through the contacts to find Wymack. The phone ran thrice before he heard a gruff voice on the other line.

“I’m at the airport.” Who was that speaking? Was that him? The other line stayed quiet for a while, too long, before Wymack sighed.

“Another lie, huh? I’ll be there as fast as I can.” The line went dead. Neil wasn’t sure if his phone had died or if Wymack hung up, but he shut it, grabbed the charger, and shoved both into his bag before making his way out to the curb to sit down.

Neil fell asleep within minutes of getting in Wymacks car, despite not thinking he would be able to. He was too tired for his fears to come back, it seemed. Wymack woke him as gently as he could and offered to carry his bag in for him. Neil shook his head and followed Wymack inside. 

“I’m going to make coffee. You look like you need some.” Neil shrugged and lowered his bag onto the couch. “You look…” Wymack struggled for a moment to find the words, then shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared a moment later with a can in his hands. “Is this good for you?” He tossed the can to Neil. Neil grabbed it in the air, then choked back a scream as it fell from his fingers. It spilled on the floor and Wymack stared at him. “ _Fuck,_ Neil.”

“Nathaniel.” Neil corrected. 

“Is that why you look like that?” Wymack motioned to Neil’s face. Neil blinked at him. “You haven’t seen?” Neil was stumbling to the bathroom as soon as the question left his mouth. He flicked the light on and stared into the mirror. 

“No.” He breathed, his throat growled back at him. He turned to the footsteps in the door. “I—”

“Neil—”

“ _No.”_ He repeated, his fingers clutching the rim of the sink as he leaned closer. His father stared back at him. Icy blue eyes hidden under bangs of fire, right above a smile of sharp, white teeth. Except his father didn’t have this many cuts. He didn’t have a bandage on his cheek. Neil hadn’t either. He ripped his fingers from the rim of the sink and raised his shaky hand to touch the bandage. He fumbled with the edge for too long, too long for his and Wymack’s patience, and the older man leaned over him to pull it off. A stark number 4 stared back at him, and Neil thought he was dying. 

“What the fuck did they do to you!” Wymack snarled, and the words went right through Neil. He fell to his knees on the floor with a wail and dug his fingers in his hair. He needed to tear it out. His father’s hair didn’t belong on his head. He couldn’t— “Neil!” He felt a hand on his trembling shoulder and looked up. 

“That isn’t my name.” 

“I don’t care who this,” he waved at Neil’s haggard appearance, “is. You are Neil Josten, alright. Tell me what the fuck happened.”

“I didn’t sign it.” Neil suddenly remembered. “I—they gave me a contract but I didn’t sign it. I’m still a fox.”

“Of course you’re still a fox.” Wymack snarled. “If anyone tries to take you from us—”

“You can’t.” Neil shook. “You can’t hurt them. You can’t say anything. I-I have to—If I go back to before they’ll kill all of you. But my father will see and—”

“Deep breaths, Neil.” The name tore through him. After hearing nothing but Nathaniel and a menagerie of sick nicknames, it was a relief. “I’m going to make us coffee, and you’re going to calm down, and Abby is going to come and check on you.”

“She can’t—” 

“We aren’t going to tell the police. Calm down, now. You’re safe here.” Neil took a deep breath. He felt a stitch in his side come loose. “Come with me. Tell me everything you can remember while we wait.”

It wasn’t a lot. Just bits and pieces. They had cut him up and tortured him every night. The night before they sent him on his way they had tried to make him sign a contract. They died his hair to its natural color, tattooed his face, and told him if he ever changed his appearance, they would wipe the foxes off the planet. He couldn’t lose his family. He knew they were putting a target on his back and he wouldn’t live as long as he had cameras on him and his father was out of jail, but it was better that he die than his family. Wymack pressed him for more, but Neil couldn’t tell him anything else. He didn’t _remember._ It was all blank.

“It can be a symptom of dissociation, of trauma.” Abby said as she cleaned his wounds. 

“Dissociation?”

“It's like… You seperate your consciousness from your body and mind to protect yourself from something that’s too hard for you to cope with.”

“Like getting cut up and abused every day?” Neil asked. He still didn’t recognize his voice. “Then why do I remember?”

“It’s possible something worse happened.” Abby said softly, then handed Neil his shirt. Neil pulled it back on. Wymack handed him a cup of coffee. “I’ll have to check you again and okay you for playing.” Abby said quickly, with a new tone. Neil frowned. 

“But I need to play.”

“If you injure yourself, you will have to wait longer.” Wymack said. “I’m not letting you on the court until she okay’s you.” Wymack waited until Neil nodded, then continued. “The rest of the team will be coming back in a few days, and then Andrew. Figure out what you’re going to tell them about this. I won’t let you stay here any longer than you absolutely need to.” Neil nodded. “And if I hear you tell anyone that you’re fine, I will personally beat your ass.”

\----------

Neil looked down at the edge of the roof. He felt Andrew’s blank gaze on him. A cloud of smoke covered his vision and he looked over. Andrew took another drag. 

It had been a week before Andrew had chosen to be alone with him. He still hadn’t said anything nice to him, but that was to be expected. After the reveal that what he did didn’t protect Andrew from anything, he didn’t know how Andrew could stand to be in the same room as him. Or roof.

“What did Riko do to you?” Neil opened his mouth to respond. “Not what you told the others. I know more happened. Just fucking look at yourself.”

“I…” Neil gazed off into the horizon. The sun had set a while ago. It was getting cold. “Abby said not remembering is a sign of extreme trauma.” He heard Andrew shift beside him. “I really don’t remember.” He turned his head to look at Andrew, only to see that he was now a breath away. Andrew looked down at his lips, then leaned forward.

Neil looked to where Andrew was holding his wrist. He didn’t remember moving his hand. He didn’t remember falling onto his elbows. 

“I’m—”

“Tell me what he did to you.” Andrew interrupted, grip tightening on his wrist. 

“I don’t remember.” Neil whispered. Andrew stared into his eyes, then let his wrist drop. He stood up and stared at the ground far below them, then turned and went back inside. Neil fell onto his back and stared up at the sky. 

\----------

The first time they kissed, Neil had a panic attack. It took an hour for him to calm down, for him to realize it was Andrew. It was a good day, so Andrew let him touch his face and chest and back. Neil asked and Andrew said yes. They kissed, and Neil was okay. It was Andrew. It was Andrew.

Neil had said yes, but when Andrew’s hand slipped under the waistband of his shorts and underwear, he froze. Andrew felt the change in him instantly and removed his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Neil struggled for breath. 

“What happened, Neil?”

“I don’t know. I liked it.” Neil said, simply, because he had. He liked what he and Andrew were doing. He _liked_ kissing and touching Andrew. 

“That wasn’t what I was asking.” Andrew said, but Neil already knew. 

“I don’t remember.”

“I can’t do this until you figure out what’s wrong.” Andrew said. “I can’t be them.” He stood up and left the room. 

Neil kept his eyes on Andrew’s as Andrew jerked him off. His hand was resting on Andrew’s cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbones, tickled under long eyelashes whenever Andrew blinked. His other hand combed through Andrew’s hair, stopping occasionally to cup his other cheek and pull him up into a gentle kiss. 

“Can I touch you?” Neil asked.

“Yes.” Andrew hummed against his lips. Neil slipped his hand under Andrew’s pants and grabbed his swollen member. He matched Andrew’s pace, sometimes stopping to rub his thumb over the head of his cock or dip the tip of his finger into the divot at the top. Neil kissed up Andrew’s neck and sucked a mark into his collarbone before he pressed his forehead against him and breathed heavily. He bit his lip as he came into Andrew’s hand, doing his best to continue moving his hand until Andrew followed suit. He let Andrew move to sit on the end of the bed and clean himself up, gather himself and think through whatever he needed to every time they did this. Neil didn’t mind. He sometimes needed space, too. He didn’t know why. Nothing like that had happened to him. He rolled onto his side and pulled the sheets up to cover his shoulders. A few minutes later, he felt prickling in the back of his eyes. Nothing bad had happened to him. He blinked back the tears. Nothing.

“Andrew?” He said softly. Andrew didn’t respond, but he knew he was listening. “I think I remember what happened.” Andrew hummed. 

“Pretending it didn’t happen won’t make it go away.”

“I know. I know it happened. I don’t want to talk about it, though. I don’t think I need to. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay for now, Neil.”

“Can you sleep here?”

“I’ll stay while you fall asleep but no.” Andrew responded. Neil nodded and moved to make room for Andrew to sit beside him. Andrew placed his hand down on the mattress and Neil took it in his own. 

“Andrew?”

“Did you change your mind already? Or was that another one of your lies?”

“Who do I tell?” Neil asked. Andrew shrugged. 

“Bee. Kevin. Nicky, if you want.” Andrew looked down at him. “I can’t hear you talk about it.”

“That’s okay.” Neil hummed and shut his eyes. He felt a tear run down his cheek. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a while.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Andrew said, and they fell into silence.


End file.
